


Mark

by Ribbonshalos



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Romance, Soulmate AU, Soulmate marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 19:58:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16729755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ribbonshalos/pseuds/Ribbonshalos
Summary: Mercy’s mark appears when she was fifteen, on the back of her right thigh, directly above the knee. Such an odd place, but she still quietly gasped when she saw it.





	Mark

Her mother had it on her right cheek bone. She was proud, excited, that her love would touch her face at the first thought of love towards her. Pappa stroked her cheek before brushing back a strand of hair, and gasped quietly when the black burst into blue, white and yellow.

Her father was lucky to have his concealed on the inside of his arm. A handprint, light and framed, waiting for her touch. They were kissing when she held onto him, and the dark velvet spot rearranged to pink, orange and purple upon his skin.

Soulmate marks. Depthless, almost like a black hole. Mysterious, and irremovable. Everyone has one, formed on one’s skin sometime before adulthood. The moment the person destined to one’s heart touches one’s skin, with the thought of love, the black mark turns into bright, vibrant colors.

Some have theirs on their face, right in the open for everyone to see. Others are easier to hide, but some are more interesting. The marks appear everywhere. Shoulder blades, fingertips, chests, throats, feet, even in the shadows of a kiss brush against someone’s lips.

Mercy’s mark appears when she was fifteen, on the back of her right thigh, directly above the knee. Such an odd place, but she still quietly gasped when she saw it.

She wonders, but had little time to devote to the one’s print left on her skin. School, and helping others, became her focus. Gaining her doctorate also gained the eye of Overwatch, and for a few precious seconds, she wondered if she could find  _him_  there.

Some cultures treat marks as personal, safeguarded secrets. For others, it’s a label to wear proudly. Captain Amari hides hers, but she explains that she has yet to find him. Her soulmate. Her mark touches the inside of her right palm, the black spot curling over her fingers. Her gloves conceal it enough. Her daughter, Fareeha, runs around her office from time to time, but Mercy does not ask unwanted questions.

She sees all their marks. Being a doctor is also an oath of keeping a patient’s soul mark private. Jesse’s mark is on his shoulder, nearly overlapping on his neck. One late night after losing his arm, his drug numbed mind confesses that it’s probably for the best that his soulmate won’t find him. His weary soul is full of miserable acceptance. She disagrees, but he drifts into a hazy dream.

Strike Commander Morrison’s mark is on his left hip, a small dark spot. He never speaks about such things, but sometimes she catches his hand moving. Outlining the small space on his side while looking over files.

Reinhardt proudly displays a small black spot on his left hand, on the front of his fingers. Commander Reyes’ mark is on his back, right behind his heart. Torbjörn’s mark on his arm glows a brilliant scarlet, yellow and green. They’ve become quite close, and he tells her about the time his wife’s mark lite up on her collarbone.

When she undresses after leaving her lab at four AM, she’ll slouch against her bed. Too tired to change into soft clothes, but somehow her fingers always rub against her mark. In brief moments, she imagines blues and reds and yellows that could change her skin. Perhaps an entire painting will dance along her body, but it still lies dark and dormant.

She wonders about  _him_.

They all go to Japan. Interfering with the yakuza and stopping their criminal empire. The Shimada Clan is powerful, but they must come to an end, as Strike Commander Morrison puts it.

It’s dark when they call for her. The ship flies quickly, but not fast enough. She’s patient, and finally descends to a locked down portion of Hanumura. A blood splattered floor greets her. The man’s body barely holds together. A sword stained with his own life force stays forsaken on the ground.

She doesn’t see her soulmate mark fade to an ashy gray.

For sixteen hours, she works at stabilizing him. His right arm is beyond repair, and the lower half of his body. Prosthetics are already being molded to fit him, and she requests that no one speak to him without her presence, especially either of the commanders. He needs to heal, but they have no time for that.

When she checks her mark after stabilizing him, it’s still the same black velvet as before.

Sleep only comforts her for four hours before a nurse wakes her. Her lab coat is barely on her shoulders before she intercepts Reyes. He explains the deal he’s going to propose to the younger heir of the Shimada clan. A chance at redemption. Arguing only leads to her exhaustion, and she refuses to be a part of what they ask of him.

After he is rebuilt, she aids in physical therapy. Wires and tubes are needed to keep him stable at times, and he accepts it all with harsh silence. Helping him continue to heal, and to become similar to what he once was, only leads to blood hot anger. It plays out in front of her, a lightning bolt touching an already dead tree. She speaks quietly and gently, but he refuses her soft touches of comfort. She does not blame him, but she does know who struck him down in the first place.

On rare nights, he’ll talk quietly about the cherry blossoms, or his father. As if not spooking a bird so it flies away, she listens. Drinking in his rare and tender moments. Even with the wires and metal and tubes, she finds beauty in his black hair and red irises.

His soulmate mark rests on his remaining hand, two different spots. One small mark on the inside of his wrist, and another engulfing the back of his hand. It’s a rare sight to see two marks on a person, but it is possible to be touching someone with two hands when the thought of love strikes them.

When he has nightmares, the soulmate marks turn scratched and bloody. Never breathing a word of soulmates or love, he only fights and drowns in his emotion.

He returns from a mission one night, classified and unheard of. Blackwatch finds his deadly skills useful, another fragment of the deal. Part of his prosthetic arm is missing, and his chest bleeds freely. It makes her heart slow when McCree drags him in nearly unconscious. Her hands work, and the blood flow stops. He does not wake, and stays unconscious for most of the night. Worn down for more reasons than physical.

Ana is dead, and there are rumors of nasty dealings within Overwatch. Blackwatch is taking a lot of heat, and Strike Commander Morrison has gray hair on his temples more than ever. Only a few nights ago, McCree warned her about getting out before it all implodes. He’s thinking of taking off, and they exchange private phone numbers that will always be able to reach the other.

Exhaustion works her through in waves as she stands at Genji’s bedside. Only now does he look peaceful, until a nightmare or phantom pain wakes him. The machines easily tell her his heart rate and blood pressure, but the three AM air makes her question everything.

Bringing a chair to his bedside, she keeps an eye on his scarred eyelids. He needs rest, but she needs this too. She’s already lost Ana, and McCree may be gone as well. Genji is a soul she takes comfort in, and the blood on his body just earlier today brought back Hanamura and red on the floor.

He breathes deeply as she takes his natural hand in her palm and presses her fingers to the inside of his wrist. Scarred skin and warmth falls against her. A steady pulse beats, and his eyes do not flicker at the contact.

Why must one suffer so much when they deserve happiness?

What would a smile look like on his scarred lips?

She bows her head, and lets her eyes close as she slips her fingers around his hand. The bed holds her weary skull with little resistance. Genji’s hand is warm, and it stays with her.

*

She wonders about that night when she’s resting on her own bed. A gentle weight touched her hair, and hovered for only a moment before she blinked awake. He did not say anything of her sleeping but his hand was not within hers when she squeezed her fingers. She apologized. He said nothing. His hands were out of view, and as she stumbled away she cursed herself again and again for being so foolish.

Two days later, the UN calls Overwatch to the light. Everything begins to tremble and shake with the incoming earthquake. She feels it in her bones.

Genji leaves, only a small note left in his quarters. A feather sits on her desk after the news, and she holds it close for the rest of the day.

*

The Switzerland Headquarters is destroyed, and so is Strike Commander Morrison and Commander Reyes. McCree disappears. Overwatch is disbanded.

There’s nothing left.

She tucks her Valkyrie suit away. The yellow and white wings are not needed in hospital rooms. 

*

The first letter has her hand covering her mouth. Disbelief, joy and sorrow all mix inside her chest. A new feather to replace the old one she lost in the explosion.

Genji explains the cold air in Nepal, and of his master Zenyatta. He apologizes, and a tear slips down her cheek before she brushes it away. The words are awkward, unsure, but she quickly replies back to his genuine attempt.

Several years pass, with only gentle scrawled words and growing bonds. Though time and distance is so much, he always tells her about the snow. Sometimes he’ll meditate in the dead of night, or travel with Zenyatta to nearby villages. Mercy only pictures his stories. Her tales are less exciting, but people need her. War and chaos still exist, and she does her best to soften its effects.

He tells her that her accomplishments are important, and that she is a miracle worker. That line on the paper makes her laugh softly. She replies with, ‘I’m not a miracle worker, well, not always.’

On rainy days, her hand rubs against her soulmate mark. It hasn’t turned to an ashy gray, so her love is still alive. While raindrops dance on the roof, she pictures the first meeting. The shared look of awe and wonder. The rush of colors painting her skin at his hand and her own touching his.

Rainy days are lonely.

They both receive the call from Watchpoint: Gibraltar. Though the Petras act is still in place, Winston is recalling members of Overwatch.

A quick letter describes Genji’s decision to join. He and his master will go to the Watchpoint, but he will first seek out his brother. It makes her heart shudder but his spiritual enlightenment reaches through his words. He has forgiven his brother, and goes to help him forgive himself.

To join the illegal recalling of Overwatch, or to stay here in her hospital? Overwatch fell apart so easily the first time, how will this be any different? The lies and deceits were heavy, especially in the Blackwatch section. How can she know this won’t come crashing down like the Switzerland Headquarters all over again?

She doesn’t.

Genji is going, and they need her. She needs to watch over them.

Her Valkyrie suit waits for her.

Tracer and Winston greet her upon her arrival. Ecstatic to have the doctor as part of their team. Mei, a young women named Hana Song, and McCree all welcome her too. She and Jesse hug as she demands he tells her about where he ran off to. A grown man with stronger build, he smiles at her chastising. The same friendship still held between them.

It almost feels like before.

She beats Genji to the Watchpoint, and worry festers in her chest. The thought of his brother once again harming him, or an accident along the journey is too much. Dark concern weighs her shoulders down, almost crushing her ribcage. The first night in her previous bed, she sits in the darkness. Twisting her body to look at the mark on the back of her thigh in the moonlight, it still lays black against her skin. Not gray, but not colored. Waiting.

The next day, she cleans the dust off her lab and remembers Ana.

During exams, Tracer chatters on about the mark on her ribcage, a little to the left. It’s small, but Tracer is convinced it’s a kiss.

Mei’s mark is on the back of her neck, usually hidden by her parka or hoodie. She blushes shyly when Mercy’s eyes catch it, so she doesn’t comment.

Hana’s is on her left shoulder blade, dead center. It’s a bold thing of the young women to ask, but Mercy tells Hana where her mark is. She wonders why she hasn’t find her soulmate yet. Laughing softly, Mercy confesses that she’s been a little busy.

The dark mark on McCree’s shoulder is a gloomy sight, and he only sighs when she looks over it. She gives him a gentle smile before showing him the still black spot on her skin.

“Looks like we’re both still waitin’, Angie.”

But how much longer?

*

 It’s a warm morning when Tracer darts into her lab with the news. Her heartbeat stills as the rushing words leave the other women’s lips. She stalls, hands resting on top of her desk as she looks to the door. The cool counter calms her pulsing veins.

Seeing him, after all this time… Will he be different from the words on the paper? Will she be a stranger to him?

Straightening her spine, she strides forward. Seeing Genji will lighten her soul from worry at the very least. Her own eyes need to see him in one piece.

Already the mess hall is bursting with people. The other doorway is block from her view by the bodies greeting the new arrivals. An omnic floats besides Mei and D.va. A monk by the clothing. His master, she guesses. Waiting patiently, he slowly comes into view.

Silver armor decorates his body, even his human half. A face mask of sharp metal greets her with a visor glowing green. Moving forward, the visor lands on her, flashing a bright color.  

Unconsciously, her eyes flicker to his left hand. His soulmate mark is covered. Their letters never touched on the subject of such things, but the mystery still lingers in the back of her mind.

He calls her doctor, as familiar as the days before Overwatch fell apart. A new smile touches her mouth as she takes in his whole being. He seems well, he seems at peace. She reaches for him first, giving plenty of time to reject the gesture but he enters her embrace with ease. Steel and sandalwood touch her senses.  

His gentle voice whispers how he is glad to see her.

*

The night is spent eating quietly together. Genji speaks of his master, and Mercy finds him quite agreeable. The omnic is wise and insightful, and helped Genji find peace. Already a friend to her. Mercy only speaks of traveling to other countries who needed her assistant, but of not putting the Valkyrie suit on until now. She’s modified the colors and design to fit better, and he wishes to see it.

She agrees, but asks of his brother. He thinks for a moment, before saying Hanzo has suffered enough. It’s time for him to find peace too. He extended an offer of joining Overwatch together, but his brother refused.

Genji hopes he changes his mind. Though the scars on his body and the blood on the floor still root deeply in her mind, Mercy does too. For his sake.

Often in the evenings he comes to her lab. Her work in reorganizing the updated and new files of Overwatch agents takes time. Mediating so carefully he almost appears to sleep, he waits for her. If the hours pass by without her noticing, he softly nudges her to her room. A few times he invites her to join him and Zenyatta at the cliff side. Meditating has never been a habit of Mercy, but with him, it’s relaxing. Long, stressful afternoons melt away as Zenyatta helps her keep her breathing controlled.

One night after staring at the computer screen too long, she finally drags herself to bed. Exhausted, and almost unable to see straight, her fingers rub the back of her thigh. The same black mark mocks her while Genji smiles at her every day.

She wonders if he could be the one. The one meant to place his hand on her and think of only eternity within her eyes. His mark is hidden, but there’s still hope that he is searching.

Stumbling steps reach her door, jarring her awake from her half dreams. Hardly breathing, she wakes for the knocking. Someone could be hurt. Maybe there is an attack or Winston is calling for an urgent mission.

Nothing, only silence for an entire minute.

Standing, only in her nightgown, she opens the door.

Green, circular lights glow dimly in the darkness. Starting, Genji steps back. His face mask is in place, but his shoulders release steam at the sight of her. The armor on his body is gone, revealing brown, synthetic flesh and his natural arm. His chest heaves with deep breaths, as if he just finished running.

Whispering an apology for waking her, he offers no reason for him being at her door at four AM. Silence stretches between them and the doorway. She waits, taking in his anxious state. His gaze refuses to meet hers, until she places her hand on the crook of his scarred arm and leads him into her room. Usually quite steps pad against her floor, settling beside her on the bed. With caution, she keeps her hand lightly on his arm. He only breathes, still struggling with controlling his lung’s tempo.

Nights of his raw anger and sharp words come back to her mind. He did not want comfort, especially not from her. Any physically contact was met with rejection. He’s changed from that rash rage and deep hatred, but she still keeps her touch nearly hovering.

He says her first name, the very rare times he does when they are alone. In the near darkness, she watches his green gaze turn to her.

Silently, she reaches to him, pulling him into an embrace. He buries his head against the curve of her neck and cool metal touches her chest as they press closer. The shaking of his body trembles within her arms. Loud and visible. Clearing her throat, she begins humming. Tuneless, but the rumbling of her chest eases him to a lighter state.  

Nightmares are hard to forget.

But she holds him until he does.

*

In the morning, she wakes first. Curled along his side, they somehow swapped positions as he arms now wrap around her waist. Warm and tender against her skin. It takes several seconds to remember, and to breathe with joy.

Ever so lightly, she tugs at his left hand. The one with his soulmate mark upon it. The outline is still as plain in her mind as the day she first saw it. Shifting slowly on the bed as to not wake him, her hands hold his. Her entire chest knows that if she touches his soulmate mark, her colors will bleed onto his skin and his own hand will draw greens and silvers from her own.

Her gazes rests on his mark, and her chest collapses in one moment.

Colors already swirl on his soulmate mark.

She swallows, but finds her throat is too dry.

He’s already found his soulmate.

And this… this is all wrong. He came just for comfort, or… to make up for the lonely nights. Where is  _she_? When did he find her? Why didn’t he tell her?

Yellow and brown and white dance on the back of his hand, and on one small patch at the front of his wrist. Mocking and not hers. She didn’t do that. That’s not her touch.

What a fool she is.

When Genji wakes, Mercy is gone.

*

The day is spent nimbly dodging any interactions with Genji. Her lab is the only comfort for she could let her raw throat and red eyes sting in privacy. He comes several times, but she’s quick to be elsewhere, on a rooftop or by the sea.

McCree finds her after an hour of hiding on a tucked away cliff. Settling beside her, she only tries to control her breathing while his presence comforts her. A familiar face since the early days of Overwatch.

“He found his soulmate already.”

As she whispers this quietly to McCree, she doesn’t look to him. The sea holds her tears steady for a moment.

Quietly placing his hand on her shoulder, he says sorry. Some things just don’t turn out like you think they should. Her soulmate is still out there, waiting for her touch. He understands if it hurts to be around him, but he doubts Genji wouldn’t want to at least be around her.

She takes his words in silence. Thoughts of another hand taking his, of holding him close and whispering loving things drowns her mind.

Everyone has their soulmate. The one person who can love them into eternity. The only way to know if they are the true one, is if their touch upon your skin turns into the colors of their soul. Bright and steady. A mark of their love to forever hold upon your body.

It hurts so much right now. Her chest, her eyes, her throat. A black pit in her stomach swirls and eats away at her body. Sucking the peace and joy away from what she thought was love. What she thought was her soulmate.

She may love Genji, but she is not the one destined to him.

And the ache in her heart is too much for even the sea breeze to wash away.  

*

Three weeks later, she still nimbly dances around his attempts at conversations and any room where they could end up alone. Thankfully McCree has been spending some time with her, allowing a buffer between her and Genji. He notices the immediate change, but his face plate hides any emotion he may be showing.

Hana asks what’s up with her and Genji. Mercy only tells her it’s not of her concern. Unperturbed, she goes on to say that Genji is afraid he did something to offend her. Like, He’s really stressing about it. He even wants to make it up to her, but she won’t give him the chance to even talk. Snapping her bubblegum, she asks why she’s avoiding him.  _Did_  he do something?

The black pit in her stomach swirls at the thought of her being wrong. Of seeing bright colors when they weren’t truly there.

But the ache in her heart cuts the truth through her mind again. No. She won’t be a fool again.

That evening, Winston arranges the next mission. She and Genji will be on it together, along with Reinhardt, Mei and D.va.

*

She’s cut off from following D.va’s pink MEKA across the street. Stumbling, and holding her own blaster out, she calls for assistant. The Talon agents trying to steal information from the world renowned company are swarming the grounds.  One already spots her, and trains his rifles on her body.

His steady voice cuts into her commlink, informing her of him already traveling to her location.

Biting her tongue, she jumps away from gunfire, rushing into an alleyway. Emotions will cloud her judgement, so she lets him come. The cool metal of her gun still rests in her hands as she backtracks. The Talon agent stalking her begins calling out. A cat playing with the mouse.

The dead end leaves her with no more options. Facing the black mask, the gun dangerously gleams in the sunlight.

He begins to say something, but her finger pulls the trigger three times. Multiple gunshots echoes as the bullets hit his right shoulder.

Fire, searing right through her thigh, makes her cry out. A kneejerk reaction when she shot his dominant arm. They both fall, and Mercy forces her lungs to move. Her eyes stare upwards, wide and attempting to harness the pain blooming in her muscles. The bullet may have gone straight through, but now she claws at her own control.

Her name, her first name, cuts through the storm of pain. Grinding her teeth, and leaning up on her arm, she finds a metallic body stooping over the man that shot her. The Talon agent does not move. Genji straightens, green visor flashing dangerously.

Shoving air between her teeth, she attempts to sit up more. Surveying the fire eating her leg, blood already spills from her right thigh. Bright red trickles slip down her leg, but attempts at moving it are met in vain.

He comes to her, fast and quick. Cool metal supports her, water in the fire. Her fingers grasps at his arms as he props her against him. Pain makes her dig her nails into him, but his armor does not suffer.

Gently, he lifts her, but stops when she nearly screams in protest. His words are steady, but the edge of panic still touches him. Attempts to look at her wounds fail as her body refuses to obey through the hailstorm. Instructing him through her clenched jaw, he moves her to a brick wall. She almost begs him to stop at the movement of her leg.  

Letting the hard stone press against her wings as she tries to control the fire, she breathes in and out. His hand touches her hair, moving it from her eyes as she sees him. As if he does not hide, as if all his scars are in plain sight and he truly is hers.

Between her groans, she tells him to rip the fabric from around the wound. He hesitates for a moment, but looks to her grim expression. Pressing his hand at the back of her knee and tearing it with ease, he props up her exposed leg. Pale skin, streaked with red. One bloody hole in the center of her thigh.

Following her grunted instructions, he takes the fabric and wraps it around the wound. Tying it makes her body rigid with sheer agony, a scream gets away from between her teeth. The bleeding needs to be stop though, and Genji’s soft apology lightens the ache.

He says he’s sorry, that he should have been here. She shouldn’t have been hurt. He swears he’ll always be here for her, if she wants him to be.

She closes her eyes, leaning her head back against the brick. A silent cry from her heart reaches out. Wanting him. Wanting her hand print against his skin. Wanting her colors to paint him.

But he’s already found his soulmate.

She thought she did too.

She begs him to stop. He stills, but only asks what she means. She begs him again, to stop this game. To stop this little thing of being together when they are not.

His hands touch her cheek, breathlessly asking her what she means. Telling her that if she truly does not want him anymore, he will leave.

Her eyes open, and words spill from her veins that she has always wanted him.

Pain pulses like a second heartbeat in her thigh, where his hand still props her leg up. It’s streaked with blood, but at a glance the back of her thigh shines with green.

Just underneath his pinky, silver touches her skin. Her lungs exhale, eyes wide and uncertain. He follows her sudden and intense gaze. His eyes land upon her soulmate mark for the very first time, but it’s not dark with isolation.

It glows. Emerald, silver and orange. Bright and slashed through as if cut together.

His hand fits perfectly in the mark. Even as he gently moves it to take in the pulsing mark, it still gleams. His touch, upon her skin. His soul upon her body.

Carefully rearranging her leg, the green is swallowed by the ground. Panic almost jerks her body to see it once again. Perhaps it will go just as quickly as it came. His love mark will not be lost now, not when she has him so close again.

Quick, nimble figures retract the armor from his still flesh hand. Where his mark rests. Yellow, brown and white still swirl on the back of his hand, and the one small spot at the base of his wrist. She says his name, and he asks for her hands. Guiding her fingers, her left hand cups the back of his, outlined in yellow. With a gentle nudge, her two fingers come to his wrist. Resting upon his skin like she’s counting his heartbeat.

The night he was hurt. The night she was scared of losing him. The night she took his pulse even though the machines could tell her his heart rate just as easily.

She fell in love with him that night.

The colors are hers upon his skin.      

With his right hand, the metal mask clicks off at his fingers. Tucking it away, he looks to her. A smile upon his scarred lips.

A whisper of his names leaves her, soft and quiet and hopeful. Gentle as the breeze, he leans forward, and presses his worn and weathered lips against her temple. The pain in her leg gone for just a moment.

He starts with an apology, but continues on to how he has known they were soulmates for a long time. Since the few days before he left Overwatch. He awoke with her colors upon his skin. With her sleeping head, and warm hand, he knew.

And he knew he didn’t deserve her.

Leaving was for the best, while he was full of fire and searing emotion. He wanted to be worthy of her love, but kept finding himself falling short. Too much and not enough. Too sharp and too unnoticed. It was only when he found Zenyatta, and ultimately his peace that he felt he could come back to her. Ready to be someone deserving of her kind words and soft heart.

He couldn’t help the letters though. He had to make sure she was still okay, and that she wasn’t so far away. That there was still a chance for him.

Soft waterways trail down her cheeks as she listens. The tears are not from the pain. She clutches his hand now, tight and unyielding. A broken mess of words leaves her teeth about thinking of there being someone else. About him having already found a soulmate.

He shakes his head, fitting his hand once again against the green and silver colors on the back of her thigh.

“No, I am yours. Only yours.”

*

A scar dots the top of her thigh, but the colors on the underside washes it away. It’s healed, but the green, silver and orange still dance on her skin.

They hold hands often, and her fingers will trace the outlines of yellow. When they are alone, she’ll kiss his fingertips and the back of his hand. Even when they sleep side by side, and his hand gently hooks her leg over him, she still marvels.

Her soulmate, right here, calling her angel. The entire time within reach, but patience nearly killed her.

McCree will poke fun at how close they stand beside each other. Mercy blushes, but Genji only retorts back that he’s wishing for an angel too. A steady laugh comes from him, and a smile touches her lips.

D.va asks her what it felt like, and if it looked cool. She tells her as best as she can, about the sureness and comfort settling in all at once. When they finish talking, D.va’s hand reaches over her shoulder. Fingers rubbing the dark mark upon her shoulder blade while lost in thought.

They talk of marriage, somewhere in Switzerland. A quiet wedding, before going to his homeland for rest and love. Hanzo’s supposed to be joining them soon, so they agree to wait so Genji can tell his brother of the news.

He swears they will not marry until he gets a ring on her left hand, and Mercy softly smiles.

Sometimes she dreams that Genji’s scarred skin blossoms in pinks and blues and reds. All without her being near him. She’ll wake, and touch his face. His lips are quick to comfort her, whispering that it’s alright. He’s here. He’ll never leave. Her colors are the most beautiful part of the rainbow.

Sometimes, they’ll go strolling through the watchpoint. Fingers interlocked and swinging slightly between them. He does not falter when others see them, and his master seems to glow warmer whenever they are near.

Reinhardt boosts how beautiful they are as a couple when she shows him a dazzling topaz diamond on her left hand. Mercy wipes happy tears from her eyes as Genji says he couldn’t agree more.

Still, even when they lie in bed and he sleeps soundly against her, she marvels. Her soulmate, right here. 

For eternity.


End file.
